


Stranded at The Crossroads Motel

by VoldyIsMyFather



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Dean Winchester in a Towel, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed, Stranded, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:41:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28557780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoldyIsMyFather/pseuds/VoldyIsMyFather
Summary: Dean and Hermione find themselves stranded at a motel when a snowstorm hits causing Dean's car to come off the road. Can the pair survive sharing a bed together when they barely manage to get on?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26
Collections: Stockings of Joy Collection





	Stranded at The Crossroads Motel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns/gifts).



> Written for Wizarding Crossover Connections' Stockings of Joy event.
> 
> This has been written for DarkAngelofSorrowReturns, based on their wishlist.  
> I had so much fun writing this, I really hope you enjoy it. Dean didn't like my original idea and made me change it, but I agree with him this idea worked better.

The snow billowed around them as Dean cursed in his seat beside her.

"Just pull over," she advised him, "We’re going to have an accident if we keep going.”

“Just do your magic thing so I can see better, and we’ll be fine,” he snapped in response.

“Won’t help us with the icy ground,” she hissed, but she still cast the Impervius Charm, more so in an attempt to prove her point, than anything else. 

“Much better already,” Dean snarked beside her through gritted teeth, his eyes focussed on the road.

The pair had been on the road together for a few days, stuck in the car travelling with Dean refusing to stop for long. He wanted to make it back to The Bunker so he could spend Christmas with his brother Sammy. What he hadn’t counted on was a snowstorm hitting making their journey difficult. It was now late Christmas Eve, and they still had a few miles to go. Whilst her and Dean usually got on rather well, being stuck in a car together for days on end wasn’t ideal.

“Fuck,” he cursed, as the car hit a block of ice and skidded across the road and fortunately into a snow-covered track by a garage and into the front of what she guessed was a bush. Unfortunately, the action caused the car to stall, and despite Dean being able to get it started, the car wouldn’t budge.

“Just fucking great,” he muttered under his breath, hitting the steering wheel with his palms in anger. He then turned to her expectantly.

“Dean, I told you to stop an hour ago when this first started,” she responded, knowing what he wanted, “and I can’t apparate to the Bunker as there’s ward preventing me doing so, and I can’t take Baby back with us, you won’t let me shrink her to carry, so, unfortunately, Dean we are stuck here.”

He glares at her, before climbing out of the car and slamming the door. As she climbs out, closing her door more softly than he had. She didn’t want to give him more reason to be pissed at her, and with the state he was in, being anything but gentle with Baby would set him off.

“Catch,” he orders, as he tosses her a grey duffle bag. She catches it as per his instruction, and he slams the boot of his car, his own duffle bag on his shoulder.

“You got a plan?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.

“Find a motel,” he states, as if it was obvious, “I imagine there must be one nearby, was thinking someone in the garage might help, but it appears closed.”

“I’ll check the map,” she offers, and she returned to the passenger side and dug the map out from glove box. Using a spell to pinpoint her location, she groans as she realises that if their location didn’t piss Dean off, then the motel’s name most certainly would.

After all, their night could only get worse with having to stay at a motel called The Crossroads Motel.

Unfortunately for Hermione, she didn’t know how right she was.

* * *

Dean had taken the hotel name surprisingly well. If you discount his threats of staying in the car, she’d called him a pussy and that she couldn’t believe that the big bad hunter was afraid of a motel, as well. He’d glared at her but did relent, and the pair had walked across the snow-covered track to the hotel, magic-making their journey slightly more manageable.

When they entered, the motel, the receptionist had sadly informed them there was only one room left. She’d shrugged her shoulders and figured there’d at least be a couch for her to crash on and Dean could take the bed. There hadn’t.

“Told you we would have been better off staying in the car,” Dean had muttered under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear him.

She had decidedly ignored him, not wanting to argue with him any further.

“I’m going to shower,” she advised dropping her bag to the floor before stepping into the bathroom, not giving him a chance to respond or argue he should have on first.

Hermione showers quickly knowing a long shower would only irate him further if he had to wash with cold water.

“Done,” she advised roughly fifteen minutes later, as she stepped out of the bathroom. She’d wrapped a towel around her head and had redressed in what she was wearing earlier. She had figured she could get changed while Dean was showering.

“Took you long enough,” Dean growled at her as he passed, slamming the door after hissing one final comment, “Hope there is some hot water left.”

Hermione took a deep breath, knowing Dean was more annoyed at the fact they hadn’t made it back to the Bunker in time for Christmas Day than her.

She picked up her duffle bag from where she had dropped it earlier and placed it on the bed. Unzipping it she took out a pair of boxer shorts and a band t-shirt, to change into. Hearing the water running, she quickly slipped out of her clothes and into her nightwear. Thankfully, she hears the water shut off just as she finishes pulling up the boxers.

Dean exits bathroom a few seconds later a towel wrapped around his hips, causing Hermione to shake her head. Sometimes, she got the impression he did things to annoy her, like walk around topless. It was almost like he forgot her two best friends were male.

“I'm going to try and grab some sleep," she advised him, "Do you have a side preference?"

He doesn't answer, but she can feel his eyes on her, looking at her hungrily.

Hermione remembered this was probably the least amount of clothing she'd ever worn in front of him before. When they were back home in the Bunker, she'd normally get changed before leaving her room, so Dean and Sam had only ever seen her fully dressed.

"Dean," she calls, trying to get his attention.

His eyes snap towards hers, and he stalks forward. Hermione takes a step backwards; the back of her legs hit the mattress.

"Dean," she hisses, "What are you doing?"

Again, nothing. Hermione thinks over everything the boys had taught her as she tried to figure out just what was going on with Dean. Knowing it couldn't possibly, be a demon possession as his tattoo wouldn't allow that, there wasn't much else it could be.

A shiver ran up her spine as Dean continued to get closer and Hermione exhaled. Her breath came out like a plume of white smoke, giving her the answer.

"Ghost," she whispered, and she quickly thought of everything she knew about them, their weaknesses. Quickly, she reached inside her duffle bag, which was fortunately still on the bed behind her and pulled out the iron crowbar.

Carefully so not to draw attention to the fact that she had a weapon, she aimed the bar at Dean's side. Almost as if on reflex, his arms come up to prevent the blow to his side. His hands grab the bar, and fortunately, it was enough to force the spirit in Dean to leave his body, causing the hunter to fall the floor.

"Rennervate," Hermione muttered, pointing her wand at Dean. Once she'd told the Winchester's that there was a spell to wake someone who was unconscious, they'd both request to be revived with it when they were hunting.

"What happened?" Dean asked, his voice hoarse

"I think we found ourselves a case," she advised him with a sigh, "Well, you did."

"Demon?" he asked, and Hermione felt his eyes look around the room for clues as he stood, "Though the iron crowbar leads me to ghost."

"An angry ghost," she stated, "It possessed you, and tried to attack me."

Hermione felt Dean look her over, before he responded with a husky voice, "I don't think he wanted to attack you."

"And just what did he plan on doing to me, Dean?" she bristled, eyebrows raised.

Dean took a step forward closing the gap between them, before leaning down and whispering in her ear, "I think he wanted to throw you on that bed and fuck you."

Hermione allowed her eyes to meet Dean's as he moved away from her ear. Glaring at him, she thought of what best to say in response, she wasn't prepared for Dean to wrap one of his hands around the back of her neck and capture her lips with his own.

Hermione allowed herself to kiss him back, as Dean dropped his hand from the back of her neck and moved them lower down her body, stopping on her arse squeezing it before lifting her legs up so she could wrap them around his waist. It was at this point that she realised he had already dropped his towel, leaving him completely naked. He lowered her on the bed, climbing on top of her as he did so, their lips not partying.

"Case," she whispered, pulling away not only to catch her breath but also as she remembered the severity of the situation.

"It can wait until morning," Dean muttered, kissing down her neck, "I do love you in my t-shirt."

"Your t-shirt?" she questioned, her eyes looking down at the item in question.

"Yeah, it was in my duffle bag," Dean advised moving away to point at the item in question.

"I thought it was my bag," she grumbled, throwing her head back.

"That also explains why you are in my boxers," Dean grinned at her cheekily, from his position above her "They look much better on you by the way."

"Git," she grumbled.

"Want me to take them off?" he asked teasingly, and Hermione allowed her eyes to roam his body.

"Yes," she answered, her voice no more than a whisper.

* * *

"Hey," Sam smiled at them as they entered the Bunker a couple of weeks later, "Sorry, you guys got caught with a case over Christmas."

The ghost case had been a simple salt and burn job. The only issue was they had to find the bones in the first place which had been made difficult by the several inches of snow they'd woken up to on Christmas day.

"Sorry we didn't make it back here, Sam," Hermione smiled at the younger Winchester.

"It’s fine,” the hunter replied, “I enjoyed the peace and quiet actually, didn’t have to listen to you flirting all the time.”

“We don’t flirt, Sammy,” Dean commented, sending Hermione what he thought was a secretive glance. The pair having agreed to keep Sam out of the loop of what they had spent their nights doing in the motel.

“Sure,” Sam shrugged, “And I’m guessing you two didn’t spend every night in that motel fucking each other’s brains out?”

Hermione and Dean looked at Sam in shock.

“You butt-dialled me,” the youngest Winchester advised, “I heard enough, to know what the pair of you were up to when you weren’t hunting ghosts.”

“Then you know what we are going to go and do now then, little brother,” Dean winked at Sam, before taking Hermione by the hand leading her to his room.


End file.
